


Eyes to See

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Character, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Memories, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: They had known that it was coming, that sooner or later McCree was going to end up in the same darkness as Jack. They hadn't expected it to happen now.





	Eyes to See

    Jack was used to silence, before Ana had tracked him down he had lived in silence, broken only by the odd pocket of sound when he was on a mission. He liked silence, it was something he’d never had as Strike-Commander, although it posed the risk of having his thoughts running wild if he didn’t keep his attention riveted on something.

    However, he didn’t like the silence surrounding him right now, one that pressed against his skin and had his nerves on edge. All he could hear was his own harsh breathing, and his fingers tightened against the rifle pressed protectively against his chest as his head turned from side to side. Where the hell was McCree? Everyone else had made it safely back to the rendezvous point, everyone apart from McCree, and there had been nothing but radio silence from the gunslinger since he had reported finding a group of Talon agents, the conversation having been cut off by the familiar sound of Dead-eye activating and startled shouts.

    That had been nearly half an hour ago, and no one had any trace of the McCree since then and all attempts to raise him on the communicator had gone unanswered, which was why Jack was out here on his own, Tracer’s warning that Winston wasn’t going to be happy with him going off alone ringing in his ears. It was a warning easily dismissed by the thought that it was McCree who was out here on his own, and the promise that he made himself when he had finally given into the younger man’s fervent pleading for him to answer the recall and re-join Overwatch. The moment he had stepped into the Watchpoint and found himself confronted by friends, by family that he had thought long gone, Jack had vowed that he wasn’t going to lose any of them. He couldn’t afford to lose anyone else, not after he had been given a second chance, especially not McCree and it was that thought that pushed him onwards once more, slipping out into the corridor and heading deeper into the base,

“McCree? McCree, respond.” He whispered into his communicator once he was certain that there was nobody nearby, ignoring the small light that indicated the others were trying to get hold of him, eyes constantly shifting behind his visor as he waited for a response. _Damn it McCree, answer me…_ He wanted to plead for a response, to raise his voice and demand an answer, but he had no idea who else was still in the base and the last thing the team needed was his emotions getting in the way, but it was a fight to hold his voice in as he waited for some sign that McCree could hear him.

    There was no verbal response to his question, no crackle to indicate that someone was trying to connect to him over the communicator. But his hearing, heightened since the loss of his sight and boosted by the tactical visor picked up on the tiniest of sounds from further along the corridor and his fingers tightened convulsively on the grip of his gun. Tucking the communicator away he followed the noise, trying to ignore how loud his steps sounded in the silence and praying that he wasn’t walking headfirst into a trap as he stepped into what looked to be an old office, eyes darting across the papers strewn across desks and onto the floor. A small part of him was tempted to check them, after all they could never have too much information, but he doubted that anything useful was left beyond the data they’d already extracted, and another quiet noise had him whirling, finger tensing against the trigger for a moment before he spotted the familiar hat.

“Jesus, Kid.” His heart was hammering in his chest, another sign that he was getting to old for this as years ago he had been as calm and collected in an ambush as he had dealing with paperwork, and he was about to growl at the younger man about not answering his communicator when it dawned on him that McCree hadn’t moved at all. In fact, he cursed himself for not paying attention to the rest of the scene, a spark of worry that he hadn’t felt in a long-time springing to life as he realised that the gunslinger had tucked himself into the narrow space between a tilted cabinet and a desk, and that he seemed to be completely focused on making himself as small as possible. Something so at odds with McCree’s usual larger than life personality that his worry rapidly blossomed into fear as he took a cautious half step towards him. “McCree?”

“Who’s there?” McCree finally moved, his head snapping up as Jack’s feet rustled the paper on the ground, the tense, frightened tone reminding Jack painfully of the scrawny kid he’d been confronted with in the Blackwatch interrogation room years ago. However, he wasn’t given chance to dwell on the memory, his attention caught by the way McCree’s eyes were darting rapidly around the room but failing to focus on him, almost as though…

_No, not yet…_

   Jack swallowed thickly, understanding dawning as he realised that McCree had his beloved gun in his hands and yet was making no attempt to lift it, even when the fear on his face showed no sign of fading, eyes passing over Jack once more without seeing him. They had known that this moment was coming. Angela had warned McCree repeatedly that continued use of Dead-eye was eventually going to destroy his eyesight, and more than once Jack had noticed the gunslinger taking a little longer to aim than he should’ve or asking Athena for information written on the tablet in front of him. He had seen the signs and he knew that he should have said something, but after everything that had happened he was still trying to learn the boundaries of what he could and couldn’t do around his teammates. Yet as he watched McCree trying to shrink in on himself, all he could feel was regret for not saying something sooner. However, he could do something now and he moved, deliberately making more noise than normal so that the other man would hear him coming.

“Easy M…Jesse,” Jack tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, wincing when the gunslinger still flinched violently at his voice and the sound of his movement, shrinking even further into his hiding space, fingers turning white as his grip on Peacekeeper tightened although he was still making no effort to try and aim at him. “It’s Jack. Can I come closer?” He paused, giving McCree chance to consider his words, giving him a chance to refuse, remembering just how it had felt when he had woken after Zurich to find the world around him completely black. Back then the slightest noise had felt like the deadliest threat, and he had spent the first few weeks, no months, treading the fine line of panic.

“J-Jack?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly, relieved to see a tiny bit of the fear in McCree’s expression easing and it gave him the impetus to repeat his previous question in a slightly firmer tone. “Can I come closer?” It was still another couple of minutes before McCree finally gave a tiny nod, tilting his head towards the noise as Jack moved forward, fingers tightening on his gun for a moment before he forcefully loosened his grip. A sight that relieved Jack as he remembered all too vividly the day McCree had been dared to face the training range blindfolded and managed to take out the targets with a terrifying amount of accuracy, of course then he hadn’t been panicking or in an enemy base, but that didn’t mean he wanted to chance it. “Easy Jesse, it’s just me and you.” _I hope_ , he added to himself but there was no way he was going to add to McCree’s panic now.

“I think I screwed up Jack.” The words are painfully familiar, although at least this time they’re not accompanied by blood and Jesse’s breathing becoming increasingly weak as Jack fought to keep pressure on his arm. It’s better, but not any easier to bear and Jack cautiously reached up to lay a hand on McCree’s shoulder, feeling the way he twitches at the touch, surprised that he doesn’t find himself with a fist in his face. He vaguely remembers doing just that to some of the doctors when he had first woken in the hospital, blind and panicking, and if he’s honest he’s impressed.

“We knew it was a risk, it’s just bad luck it happened now,” Jack replied finally, knowing that words are going to be of little comfort now, even if he had been any good with them, fingers tightening on McCree’s shoulders when he sees the lingering guilt, the doubt in McCree’s face as he shakes his head. “It’s not your fault Jesse.” _It’s ours_ , it was a skill that they should never have taught him. He knew that Ana had been reluctant to show him in the first place, and it doesn’t help that he knows Dead- eye is a major reason why Jesse is still alive, why half of them are still alive, remembering their last mission when it had been McCree’s shot that had stopped Reaper taking his head off.  However, there will be plenty of time for guilt later, for now they need to get out of here before anyone stumbles on them because it’s clear that McCree’s in no state to fight right now. “Can you see anything?”

“Shadows? You’re a slightly darker blur than the rest of the world, but…” _Not enough_ , it hangs unspoken in the air between them and Jack can hear McCree’s breathing as it speeds up, panic seeping back into his expression and Jack scowls at the sight. He’s not good at comfort, not anymore, but this situation and the fact that its McCree tugs at him in a way nothing else could, and he wracks his brain frantically, wanting to help without having to call the others even though he knows he should let them know what’s going on.

   He pauses in the middle of running a hand over his face, the feel of the mask under his fingers giving him a half-formed idea as he glances back at Jesse. He’s not sure if it will work, but McCree is still breathing harshly, shivering as full on panic begins to settle in once more and that is enough to make up his mind.

“Here.” Jack said softly, releasing McCree so that he can reach up and deftly removing his tactical visor, the world immediately fading to a blurry mess of blacks and greys. Taking a deep breath as he adapts to the change he carefully reached out, unlike McCree he can’t even differentiate between the rest of the world and a shadow that indicates a person, instead relying on his hearing to guide him towards the younger man. Even then it takes him a moment to find McCree’s face, fumbling as he feels his way further up until he feels the curve of Jesse’s cheeks, hesitating for a moment. “This might hurt for a moment, but just bear with it.” He waits until he gets a tiny nod of approval, McCree trusting him despite everything that’s happened and the confusion on his face, before carefully slipping the visor into place, hearing the sharp whirr as it clicks into the place and the sharp intake of breath as the nanites set to work. He wishes that he could see, worried that he’s making things worse rather than better, fingers lingering against McCree’s face which is why he feels it when the younger man relaxes slightly a moment later. “Better?”

“Jack…” McCree sounds more like himself now, and the feel of gun-calloused fingers brushing against the skin around his ruined eyes tells Jack that he can at least see a little better than before and that’s more than enough for Jack. “I can’t take this.” He feels the fingers pull back and somehow, he knows that the idiot is going to remove the visor, lunging forward and blindly grasping at McCree’s hands, grip tightening when he feels him try to struggle free.

“Enough,” he growls, gratified when McCree immediately pauses although he can just imagine the scowl on the other’s face. “It’s just a loan kid, but I think you need to see more than I do right now.” He might not like the darkness, or rather the memories that it brings creeping back to the surface, but at least he’s used to it.

“But…”

“We need to get out of here,” Jack cuts across the protest, knowing that the others must be panicking right about now if they haven’t already come looking for them and the longer they linger the more likely it is that Talon will send reinforcements. He’s already in for one hell of a lecture when they get back, he has no interest in giving Winston and the others more to grumble at him about. “You’re going to have to be my eyes.” He feels McCree still at that and he waits, lips quirking behind the safety of his mask when he hears the defeated huff that follows. McCree is a man after his own heart, in that if there’s a job to be done everything else can be pushed aside for the time being, and slowly he lets his hands fall away, feeling for his pulse rifle and lifting it into his lap before adding challengingly. “You up to the task, kid?”

“Who are you calling kid?” McCree’s voice still holds a slight waver, but its calmer than it was, and Jack can hear the familiar jingle of metal as he gets to his feet. _That’s the spirit,_ he thinks approvingly, although it leaves a dull ache in his chest as he remembers the amount of time he had spent holed up a room, refusing to confront the reality of what he’d lost. “Come on Old man, let’s get out of here.” Jack growls at the teasing words but doesn’t protest when McCree hooks a hand under his shoulder and helps him to his feet, realizing that there’s a little too much truth in that nickname when his stiff limbs protest the movement and he staggers for a moment, McCree quickly steadying him. “Jack…” McCree hesitates for a moment, hand lingering on Jack’s arm for a moment, his voice suddenly thick. “Thank you.”


End file.
